


Factually Unsophisticated

by viceindustrious



Category: Body of Lies (2008)
Genre: Advent Challenge 2010, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-20
Updated: 2011-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceindustrious/pseuds/viceindustrious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ed Hoffman doesn't have a lot of room to spare for sentiment</p>
            </blockquote>





	Factually Unsophisticated

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day two of the adventchallenge. Prompt: Gifts.

Ed Hoffman doesn't have a lot of room to spare for sentiment. Thirty four years old and shooting up the agency's chain of command (except that makes it sound like it's not _work_ , like he isn't busting his ass for every inch, though he'll be damned before he ever lets anyone else cotton on to the fact) and he barely gets time to eat breakfast these days, let alone post Christmas cards to dear Ma and Pa.

A couple of months ago he would have said the same thing about Hani Salaam. Maybe even a couple of weeks ago. Not that Ed's not quick on the uptake but Hani's a tricky son of a bitch to pin down.

And it definitely wasn't that he-

Okay, so he admired the way the man ran his ship. The first couple of times he met him. Sure, why not? Salaam knew how to command respect. He kept his guys on a short leash, kept his eyes on the important stuff. King of his castle, messy fucking sandcastle though it might be and Ed definitely had his sights fixed on bigger things, but credit where credit was due.

And he looked-

He dressed-

There were the suits.

Which maybe, maybe the first time he'd walked into that office and shaken that hand he'd been impressed. Impressed was a fair word. Hani makes an _impression_ on people. Not that Ed buys into that whole deal any more but again, Hani is a tricky son of a bitch, never you forget that.

Tricky with that smile, looking at you like he can see every card you're holding and the rest of the deck too. The way he fiddles a little with his cigarettes when he's thinking but you know you'd be a fool to mark it a tell. Calls you Edward and puts his hand on the small of your back when you walk through the marketplace.

He hadn't been starstruck by a pair of pressed white cuffs and a well tailored jacket, Jesus. Now there's a candy cane pin in one of those expensive lapels and it makes Ed laugh. It's all sentiment, the pin, the suit, the way he likes it when people call him Hani _Pasha_. It's all just window dressing and Ed doesn't have time for it.

Hani acts like he can have whatever the fuck he wants, like he _knows_ you.

("Clothes make the man, my dear," Hani says and taps two fingers on the little square of bare skin above the unbuttoned collar of Ed's polo shirt.)

Ed Hoffman isn't anyone's dear. The tie goes into the trash along with box it came in, the wrapping paper, the bow. He sits out on the balcony with a bottle of cheap red wine and stares at the gift tag, two words and a number, until seven pm has been and long gone and his head is pounding. He tries to throw it down into the street below but the wind blows it back under his chair and somehow he never gets round to picking it up. It ends up staying there, a little rectangle of gold on the pitted, grey concrete, until he has to leave for Langley again.


End file.
